"I did not commit it myself," replied the old woman, in a stern tone--"I did not commit it myself, nor can you prove that he committed it."
"Come, come," said the officer--"this is all gammon. What's in this box, old lady? that's what we want to see at present."
"Search, and you will see," answered Mrs. More. "We have nothing to conceal from you here!"
"That's coming it strong, howsoever," replied the man; and, leaving him to pursue his search as he pleased, the old lady descended to comfort her daughter.
"Don't be afraid, Jane," she said--"don't be afraid; they shall do nothing to him. It were worth as much as that old miser's life, to hurt a hair of is head. Don't be afraid, Jane, but put on your bonnet, my girl, run up to the castle, and tell the old man Gray to come down and speak to me. I might die, or some accident might happen, so I had better see him before I set out."
With trembling hands--but little reassured by what her mother said, and, unfortunately, but too certain of her husband's guilt--the poor girl put on her bonnet, and hastened, as fast as her limbs would carry her, up to Warmstone Castle. Before she returned again with Adam Gray, after about half-an-hour's absence, the officer had completed his search, and had left the house, swearing, with an oath, that it was very strange he had been able to discover nothing bearing in the least degree upon the robbery which had been committed. Jane found her mother putting on the boy's clothes, and, taking him out of the old lady's hands, she left her to speak with Adam Gray alone. On coming down again, both the child and herself were completely dressed, as if to go upon a journey; and the eagerness of her look amounted almost to wildness, as, in answer to her mother's question of where she was going, she replied--"You know I must get to Doncaster as fast as I can, that I may be with him. Think of his being in prison, mother, and alone!"
"Nay, nay, Jane," replied her mother--"stay a bit, my girl--they would not let you be with him even if you were there; but this good gentleman, Mr. Gray, says he will take us all over in the chaise, with which he is going to drive back to Morley Court to-morrow. It will be a sad thing for me to see all those places again; but never mind, I will go."
"I cannot stay till to-morrow," cried the younger woman. "I would rather walk, mother--indeed I would. My heart will break if I do not go to him directly;" and she burst into tears.
Adam Gray, in the meanwhile, had stood with his eyes fixed upon the floor, musing deeply, as if some subject of extraordinary interest occupied him altogether. It very often happens, however, that the mere corporeal senses, like servants afraid of disturbing their master when he is busy, receive and retain impressions, which they do not communicate to the intellectual soul, till after she has fully discussed and dismissed some particular subject with which she is occupied, or till the urgency of external applications compel them to break in upon her meditations. It was so in the present instance; the ear of Adam Gray had heard all that had passed, but his mind was so fully engaged with the conversation which had taken place between him and Mrs. More, that he had not given any attention to what was passing, till the tears of the young woman roused him from his reverie, and then the ear conveyed to his mind all that it had collected.
"There is no use," he said, addressing Jane, "of your trying to go on foot. You do not know what a distance it is, and you will be there twice as soon by going with me. Besides, if it comes to that, and you are so very anxious, I could set out to-day, about three o'clock. We shall get to Greta Bridge by ten, and then there will be the coach to-morrow, which will land you at Doncaster in the evening. If you were to set off on foot this minute, it would take you four days, or more, do what you would."